Jennie

by Douglas Preston

  So they threw Sandy and Jennie in the back of the car and brought them down to the Kibbencook police station over there on Washington Street. Even though Sandy quite reasonably asked that he and Jennie be put in the same cell, they were separated. And Jennie—who hated cages—Well! she just destroyed that cell, tore open the mattress, broke the toilet, unscrewed everything and busted the sink. The dogcatcher arrived and he was this horrid fat thing who was afraid to open the door. He was getting ready to shoot Jennie with a tranquilizing dart. Sandy told him Jennie was part of a secret government scientific project and that if they did anything to her the FBI would put him in jail. Can you imagine? Honestly, it was so funny. I don’t know whether this idiot of a dogcatcher believed it, but the police chief had read about Jennie and the research, so he asked the man to wait until we came down.

  When we arrived, Bill Russo was just getting into his car to go down to the hospital. He was all red and just furious that this chimpanzee had gotten the better of him. He said that Jennie should be destroyed and that Sandy was a menace to society and what was the matter, did his barber die or something? Or was he trying to be one of these hippie radicals who wanted to make America Communist? Why, he said, if his kid grew his hair like that he’d show him the raw side of a belt. Imagine. He spoke like that to me. Well! I told Bill Russo that what he just said was slander plain and simple and that one more word out of his big fat mouth and I’d see him in court. He said that we’d be in court first for raising a vicious ape that nearly tore his leg off. My goodness! I was so angry.

  When we got inside, Jennie was raising cain, screeching and banging on the bars. You couldn’t hear a thing it was so loud. Hugo went to the cells—there were just three little rooms down the hall—and told Jennie to shut up and she did. We had to pay bail for Sandy, and the dogcatcher gave us a citation. He said we’d have to go to court. In the meantime, he said, he would have to take Jennie down to the pound.

  Hugo was magnificent. Very cool and patient. He. explained to the man who Jennie was, what she was, and why it was impossible to even think of putting her in the pound. He dropped hints about Jennie’s strength and how she could escape from any cage made for an animal. He frightened the poor man half to death. He said, well, under the circumstances it would be acceptable if Jennie were kept at home, fully restrained at all times, until the court date. If she bit anyone else, well, that would be a very serious matter indeed.

  We drove home in silence. Hugo was angry. So was I, for that matter. Sandy and Jennie were both subdued; I guess they knew they were in big trouble. Hugo said to Sandy: Come up to my office. He signed to Jennie: Bad Jennie, go to bathroom.

  Jennie pretended not to react, but as soon as the car doors opened she jumped and hid in the garage. Hugo was madder than ever and shut the garage door, and made Jennie spend an hour in there. It was cold in there, and all she had was her Donald Duck T-shirt and pants.

  Sandy spent quite a few weekends shoveling snow to earn money for his fine. Then the judge took away his learner’s permit and he wasn’t allowed to drive until he turned sixteen and a half.

  Jennie’s hearing was a more serious matter. You see, the town really did have the right to destroy her. Kibbencook had very strict animal control laws, and a dog that bit someone and drew blood was required to be destroyed. First time; no second chances.

  Hugo actually hired a lawyer, he was that concerned. Of course, we would never have given Jennie up. We would have moved away if it came to that.

  The lawyer Hugo got was magnificent. His name was Alterman. Arthur Alterman. He cost a hundred dollars an hour, but he was worth every penny.

  It was a very funny trial. There was nothing in the history of jurisprudence like it. It wasn’t a real trial, though. Just a hearing. There was no “prosecutor,” just an administrative law judge running things, a little Italian fellow named Fiorello. Even so, the end result could have been horrible. It was a capital case.

  Russo testified, and his partner. And then the dogcatcher, all sweating and red-faced, gave his little song and dance. Then Alterman got up and put Jennie on the stand.

  I noticed that there was a young reporter in the hearing room, sleeping in the back. When Jennie came in he woke up right away. He was falling all over himself looking for a pencil and taking notes and getting on the telephone trying to get a court artist down.

  Alterman had hired a professional ASL interpreter from the Somerville School for the Deaf. Her credentials were impeccable. She was terrific and we had very carefully coached Jennie and rehearsed her testimony. For days on end we rehearsed what Jennie was to say. If she were human I am sure it would have been illegal, coaching the witness the way we did.

  Alterman didn’t put Jennie on the stand for her testimony alone. He explained it all to us. The minute the judge saw Jennie in her little blue suit with the big red bow, and saw her signing back and forth with the interpreter, he would never, ever, in a thousand years, find her a menace to society and order her destroyed. How could he? She was just like a little person!

  The interpreter led Jennie and Hugo up to the stand and the two sat there together, since somebody needed to control Jennie if something happened. God forbid that she should bite the judge or a lawyer!

  Alterman was marvelous. He was a showman. He explained that the witness couldn’t swear on the Bible because she wasn’t a Christian. There was a big laugh at that one. If Rev. Palliser had been there I’m sure he would have taken exception! The judge explained to the court, I suppose for the record, that Jennie’s testimony was meaningless to determine the facts of the case, but that he was allowing it anyway. The judge wanted to see the signing chimpanzee in action.

  So Jennie was installed in the witness stand. She looked so funny, sitting in that big oak chair with her little feet sticking out, looking around with the utmost interest. Her little black eyes were just twinkling. I wish you could have been there. She looked so small and helpless in this grand room with the flags and oak paneling and the judge in his robes. Let me see if I can remember how it went. Do you want me to demonstrate the signing again? It’s surprising how little I’ve forgotten, really. I suppose it’s like riding a bicycle.

  [Editor’s note: At this point Mrs. Archibald stood up and as she described the questions, she demonstrated the signs at the same time.]

  Mr. Alterman spoke to the interpreter only. He said to ask Jennie—he called her “the witness,”—what happened on the afternoon of February such-and-such 1973. So the woman signed to Jennie, What happen? When Jennie replied she would immediately translate.

  Jennie of course immediately demanded an apple or something. Apple! Give apple! Right away she was off the script. My heart just sank. But the interpreter was required to translate everything.

  Well! The judge banged his gavel and assumed a very serious face, and said, “No eating in the courtroom.” And everyone laughed. I was so relieved. I knew at that moment that we were going to win the case. The judge was already having a wonderful time. But then he said, “Tell the witness to respond to the question.”

  So the interpreter signed: Jennie, no apple. Later. What happen? And Jennie signed back, Hurt.

  Who? signed the interpreter. Who hurt?

  Man, Jennie signed.

  Where man? asked the interpreter.

  Jennie kept saying Man, man!

  The interpreter asked her to point to the man several times, and finally Jennie pointed right to Officer Russo.

  At this point Mr. Alterman thundered: “Let the record show that the witness has identified Officer William H. Russo!” It was so thrilling. Now I hate to admit this, but we’d rehearsed for days with Jennie using a blown-up photograph of Russo that Mr. Alterman had managed to find, I don’t know where. Every single question had been rehearsed a dozen times.

  Well! When Jennie pointed to Russo, a great Ahhhhh! went up in the courtroom and I could see the reporter scribbling away as if his life depended on it. I suppose for him it was the scoop of a l
ifetime. Here he’d probably been sitting around for months doing the Kibbencook courthouse “beat,” and seeing nothing more interesting than a drunk driver. And now, isn’t it funny, but I wonder if Mr. Alterman didn’t have something to do with getting that reporter into the courtroom? I hadn’t thought about that before, but this case made Mr. Alterman famous. He was in Time magazine even.

  Let’s see now. Mr. Alterman asked the interpreter to ask Jennie who the man hurt and why. So the interpreter asked: Man hurt who? and Jennie replied: Sandy.

  Another murmur rose up in the courtroom and the judge was banging on his gavel. It was so thrilling, just like that television show, “Ironsides,” you know, the Perry Mason show. Jennie stood up and started bobbing and hooting with excitement, and Hugo had to sit her down fast. I suppose the whole thing was highly irregular from a legal point of view, but it was great fun. And nobody was having more fun than the judge. It wasn’t a real trial, you see, so he didn’t have to worry about all the legal niceties.

  The interpreter asked again, Man hurt Sandy?

  And Jennie repeated it, Man hurt Sandy, a perfect witness. At this Russo jumped up and got all huffy with the judge. He was outraged. It was ridiculous, he said. Was the judge going to believe this monkey over him? Who was on trial here? What kind of kangaroo court was this anyway? He certainly made himself look like the fool that he was.

  By this time the judge was completely on our side. He leaned back with a smile and said, “Correction, Officer: What kind of chimpanzee court is this?” That got a great laugh. So then the interpreter asked, How man hurt Sandy? What man do?

  Well! Jennie departed from the script again. She signed Bite. Man bite. But when had Jennie ever kept to a script? If there was a way to create excitement, Jennie would find it.

  Russo jumped up again. The poor man didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. He hollered out, “Your Honor! I didn’t bite anybody! It’s a lie!”

  Oh my goodness, that just brought down the house! Everyone was helpless with laughter. The judge was trying not to laugh but he couldn’t help it. Finally he banged his gavel and assumed a grave face, and asked Mr. Alterman what the relevance of all this testimony was. He said, “Surely you weren’t going to allege that Officer Russo bit the ape?” He was laughing before he could even get out the question! Honestly, I’d never laughed so hard in my life. Russo and that horrid dog catcher sat there with these sour expressions on their faces. Fiorello was banging his gavel and laughing at the same time, but then he finally got mad and threatened to clear the court.

  Mr. Alterman explained that he was merely trying to establish Jennie’s “state of mind” at the time she nipped the officer. So the judge let him continue.

  Jennie signed apple, give apple! You see, we had coached her by feeding her apples, so she kept expecting a reward. From her point of view, she was answering the questions right but no one was giving her an apple! The interpreter signed No, apple later. Bad Jennie. No eat now. Man do what to Sandy?

  Jennie signed Hurt!

  The judge interrupted and said that he was giving Mr. Alterman one more minute to elicit information from the witness. So he said to the interpreter: “Could you please ask the witness why she bit the police officer?”

  Why Jennie bite man? the interpreter signed.

  Jennie replied, Man hurt Sandy.

  At that point Mr. Alterman was all smiles. He said, “That is all, thank you, Your Honor. And thank you, Jennie!” And the whole courtroom broke into applause, while the judge banged away.

  When Mr. Alterman summed up, he said something like, let’s see if I can remember it. He said that Jennie obviously believed the policeman was hurting Sandy, even though he wasn’t. Jennie mistakenly thought that her best friend and brother—that is, Sandy—was being hurt or attacked by a strange man. She responded to protect her friend and brother. It was a mistake. But it was a noble mistake. She was protecting someone she loved. Did the judge really want to destroy this kind, loyal, and brave chimpanzee for making a mistake? Of course not. He went on and on like that. I think the judge found her not guilty in about a minute. I don’t mean to say not guilty, because she was guilty. It was really a hearing to determine whether Jennie was dangerous and should be destroyed. She was guilty of biting Officer Russo but not guilty of being dangerous.

  And then! Oh my goodness. That little reporter’s story got everyone else interested. The Globe and the Herald Traveler and the Kibbencook Townsman all carried the story on their front pages. And then the television stations carried it and it got picked up and was even written up all over the country, in the Los Angeles Times, the Chicago Tribune, People magazine, the New York Times, everywhere. Actually, the New York Times ran a very good article on Jennie. It was the only intelligent thing written about Jennie during all those years. What was that reporter’s name? He was such a nice man. Sullivan. Walter Sullivan. Anyway, all the talk shows called again. We were offered unbelievable sums by some of these drugstore newspapers. We turned them all down. We were a little shaken up by the incident. We didn’t want to risk more public appearances by Jennie. She was getting toward puberty and becoming unruly and difficult. And strong. She could twist a heavy metal doorknob right off a door. Actually, she was becoming a major problem. It wasn’t a laughing matter.

  [A transcription from the data files of Dr. Pamela Prentiss, in the archives of the Center for Primate Research at Tufts University.]

  Setting: under the crab apple tree, July 20, 1973, 1:00 P.M. Jennie has just had her lunch and is hanging off one of the lower branches. She climbs down and sits in front of Pam. [Editor’s note: This was the last session between Dr. Prentiss and Jennie.]

  Jennie: Chase-tickle. Chase-tickle Jennie.

  Pam: No, Pam tired.

  Jennie: Chase-tickle.

  Pam: Jennie, sit down. Jennie talk with Pam now.

  Jennie: No. She stands up and stamps her foot.

  Pam: Jennie please be good. Pam talk to Jennie. Important. This is important.

  Jennie: Continues to stand.

  Pam: Pam going away. Pam going away for long time.

  Jennie: Sits down.

  Pam: Pam going away for long time. Jennie understand?

  Jennie: No reaction.

  Pam: Jennie understand? Pam going away for long time. Jennie not see Pam for long time.

  Jennie: Bad.

  Pam: Pam going away for long time. Jennie understand?

  Jennie: Bad Pam.

  Pam: Pam love Jennie.

  Jennie: Bad bad.

  Pam: Pam love Jennie. Jennie love Pam?

  Jennie: Bad.

  Pam: Jennie understand? Yes or no? Pam going away for long time.

  Jennie: Jennie bad.

  Pam: Jennie good. Jennie very good. Pam love Jennie.

  Jennie: Bad.

  Pam: Jennie good.

  Jennie: Bad bad.

  Pam: Pam love Jennie. Jennie hug Pam?

  Jennie: Doesn’t move. Bad.

  Pam: Please Jennie hug Pam?

  Jennie Doesn’t move. Hair gradually goes into piloerection.

  Pam: Please Jennie hug Pam.

  Jennie: Jennie bad. Sorry sorry.

  Pam: No, Jennie good. Jennie good.

  Jennie: Bad angry.

  Pam: Please Jennie hug Pam. Pam hurt.

  Jennie: Bad bad bad bad.

  Pam: Stands up and takes Jennie by the hand. Jennie brushes away the hand and turns away. Pam sits down and starts grooming Jennie’s back. Jennie gradually relaxes her hair and finally rolls over to have her tummy scratched.

  [Editor’s note: The transcription ends with the following exchange, which took place next to Dr. Prentiss’s Jeep.]

  Pam: Jennie hug Pam?

  Jennie: Opens her arms for a hug. Pam hugs Jennie. Jennie holds on to Pam for a long time before letting go.

  Pam: Pam love Jennie.

  Jennie: Go?

  Pam: Pam go away.

  Jennie: Bad bad Pam dead.

  Pam: Pam no
t dead. Pam go away. I know. Bad bad. Pam go away very bad. Pam love Jennie.

  Jennie: Pam Pam Pam sorry sorry Pam. Jennie bad. Bad bad bad bad bad dead dead dead.

  nine

  [FROM Recollecting a Life by Hugo Archibald.]

  The fall of 1973 stands out in my mind as one of the most difficult periods in my life.

  The first blow came when Dr. Prentiss unexpectedly lost her funding for the Jennie project. We did not quite realize how dependent we were on her until she ceased coming three days a week. The withdrawal of funding also ended our work with Jennie at the museum. Harold had reached retirement age, and I had to move on to other projects. All the additional care for Jennie fell on Lea’s shoulders. At the same time, Sandy was in full rebellion against constituted authority and a disruptive influence in the house.

  The fall made a sorry contrast to the August vacation we had just passed at the farmhouse in Maine. It was a wonderful summer, one of the best of our lives, and it was Jennie’s last summer in Maine.

  I will never forget that summer. As we drove up, at least an hour from our destination Jennie was hooting and drumming on the seat with her hands. When she saw the wooden Indian, she let out a screech of joy, and as we turned into the driveway she rolled down the window and jumped out, even before the car had stopped. We saw her black form racing through the meadow to the apple trees. She sat in her favorite tree, screaming with delight, shaking the branches and clapping her hands. Sandy, at sixteen, was also happy to get away from Kibbencook, which he found oppressive and “middle class.”

  Sarah was nine years old that summer. Her passions were reading and music. Sarah devoured books, sometimes two a day. Lea had to check her every night to make sure she turned out her light, or she would read to all hours and drag herself down to breakfast with dark circles under her eyes. She also loved classical music. She had started piano lessons and played tolerably well. We bought her a plastic portable record player that summer, and she set it up in the living room and listened endlessly to Chopin’s preludes, until the record became worn and scratchy. In Maine she could indulge in music and reading without the interruption of schoolwork.